Unwrapped
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: What do you get the woman who has given you everything you've ever desired and more? Rumple's Valentine's Day dilemma leads Belle to unwrap a very special gift . . .from a certain sexy thing . . over and over. Because fairy tales do come true! A Rumbelle Valentine's Day fic set in the Unexpected verse.


**Unwrapped**

A Rumbelle Valentine's Day fic

_What do you get the woman who has given you everything you've ever desired and more?_

That was the question that plagued Rumplestiltskin Gold this upcoming Valentine's Day. Belle had been his wife for almost four years now, and each year he strove to do something different for this special holiday. She had already given him one beautiful sassy daughter and was pregnant again, this time with triplets, as a result of a blessing of the fertility goddess Ninia. Once, because of a dark curse, Belle had been told she would never have children, but now the curse had become a blessing and such was no longer the case, as they had proven.

Their love had been tested and tested again and again, with memory-altering curses, spiteful rumors, vicious gossip, and their own fears, insecurities, and doubts. His own dagger curse had nearly prevented him from daring to open his heart and allow love into it. But through it all they had prevailed, until now they were here, upon the cusp of a new path before them . . .and he wanted to show Belle what she meant to him in a way that was unique and profound.

Valentine's Day was a day for lovers and sweethearts, old and new, but he didn't wish to go the usual route of roses, chocolates, and wine. Those things were fine for other evenings, and were things he purchased for their date nights out. Nor did he wish to use a teddy gram, having done so last year, or buy her something sparkly, since he had exhausted that route too. A candlelight dinner was something he could do . . .and he did have something he'd prepared specially for them that night for dinner, but even that was rather clichéd. He had discarded movies, books, and poems as all things he'd done repeatedly before. As well as secret bowers with rose petals and scented candles, though the spa was a favorite make out spot for them.

He had thought about dancing, and considered a return to his castle, Belle Reeve, in the Enchanted Forest, but then reasoned that Belle was showing more now with this pregnancy than before, and might not be able to dance as well as her wont and he didn't wish her to be uncomfortable. Then too, traveling magically with a pregnant woman was not recommended, as it tended to bring on early labor and the last thing he wanted was to harm his children by having them born prematurely.

So now he was wracking his brains for a solution to his dilemma.

What to do for Belle for Valentine's Day? It was February 12th and his time was almost up. _Tick tock, dearie. Tick tock,_ he thought with a heartfelt sigh.

He turned on the small radio in his back room, and figured maybe he might get inspired by some old love songs.

The first song that began to play was "You Sexy Thing" by Hot Chocolate. Rumple listened to it and hummed along while he dusted his antique apothecary chest from Beijing.

Then they played "Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree" sung by Frank Sinatra.

Rumple liked that one too, and the germ of an idea began to sprout within his fertile clever brain.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_Valentine's Day:_

Belle was home from the library early, and had just dropped Adriana off at Mary Poppin's house for the afternoon and evening. Bae had gone over to pick up Andi for their own Valentine's Day celebration, so she and Rumple had the Victorian to themselves.

She had decided to have a special tea party for Rumple as his present for Valentine's Day. She had purchased special Valentine's Day tea from a local tea shop that made its own tea blends. They had two different kinds and she had bought them both. For what was a tea party without different kinds of tea? She also had bought tiny tea cakes and scones from Tiana's bakery, and made some cucumber sandwiches with herbed mayonnaise and ham and cheese ones also. Though she was no cook, she could assemble a sandwich without it becoming a disaster.

She set everything out on the table with the lovely Irish lace tablecloth Rumple had bought her for her birthday last year, complete with napkins. She put the sandwiches, cakes, and scones upon Lennox platters and set them in the middle of the table. Then she brewed the tea and put it in two separate teapots—one in the blue willow china one and the other in a white and purple rimmed one similar to Mrs. Potts in the Beauty and the Beast movie.

She placed the blue willow cups—including Rumple's chipped one—beside their plates and spoons. She filled the cream pitcher with milk. Then she realized part of the blue willow set was missing.

Where was the sugar bowl?

Frowning, she checked inside the Chippendale curio cabinet. It wasn't there. Then she looked on the buffet. It too was empty. She bit her lip, trying to remember where she had put it. Then she recalled placing it upon the hutch in the kitchen, because Adriana was always putting spoonfuls of sugar on everything ever since she had watched Mary Poppins and heard the song "A Spoonful of Sugar". And sugar and hyperactive three year olds did not mix at all.

She went to get the stepstool to get it down . . .only to discover that the metal stool was broken. She had forgotten that her nephew Jonny and Adriana had been using it to play jungle gym and had broken it the other day by jumping up and down on it.

"Oh dearie dearie dear!" she groaned, using one of her husband's favorite expressions.

She didn't dare try and climb on a chair because she tended to get dizzy and was somewhat clumsy, even though she was only in her fourth month, and didn't want to risk falling.

So she went and stood on tiptoe, struggling to reach the sugar bowl just inches from her fingertips. _Oh damn! _She pushed herself up on her toes, her hand straining, wishing she had taken extra dance lessons or something when she was a child instead of spending all her time reading in the library.

_Come on, Belle. You can do it!_ she urged herself silently, her face growing red.

Beads of sweat began trickling down her forehead and she groaned in frustration.

"I _hate_ being small!" she cried exasperatedly. "It sucks!"

She tried again, and again couldn't get her fingers to reach the extra inch to pluck the bowl off the hutch.

And Rumple would be home soon and she _needed_ the blasted bowl!

Just then she heard the front door open and Rumple's footsteps in the hall. "Belle, I'm home, dearie!"

His wife moaned in defeat. Then she called, "Rumple!"

Her husband appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

"Trying to . . .get this blasted bowl down . . . for our tea party!" she declared, huffing and puffing.

She knew she must look a sight, with her red face, her hair straggling loose from her careful coif, and her red fuzzy cashmere sweater rucked up, leaving her baby bump showing.

"Allow me," he said gallantly, and went to reach for it, standing up in his Gucci loafers.

He forgot he was only five feet seven inches and the hutch was over six feet. He barely reached the top of it either, and his arms were short also.

"Blast!" he swore, straining to get his fingers the last half-an-inch.

Panting, he said, "Where's the stepstool, dearie?"

"Umm . . .broken . . .remember?"

He groaned. "Meant to have Bae fix it and I forgot."

Normally that wouldn't have presented a problem. He could have gotten the bowl down with his magic or fixed the stool with it. But because of Belle's pregnancy, and his soulbond, that rendered his magic unusable for nine months, as well as giving him Couvade syndrome again. Meaning he experienced all her symptoms along with her . . .including being dizzy.

He tried again, stretching up as high as he could . . .grunting and hissing . . . . his face turning red as he struggled.

_Got . . . to . . .get . . .it . . .down . . ._

But the elusive sugar bowl remained just beyond his questing fingertips.

Defeated, he slumped against the wall. "Sorry, dearie. I'm too short. Or vertically challenged or whatever stupid expression they use these days." He glowered at his feet thinking if he was like every other man in Storybrooke, he could get a damned bowl down from the top of this hutch without it becoming a feat worthy of Hercules.

"Hmm . . .?" Belle said, somewhat dreamily, for while her husband had been stretching himself like Plastic Man, or trying to, she had been admiring the view . . .of his tantalizing bottom in his tailored Armani trousers. She had almost forgotten the sugar bowl as she had gazed . . .

"I said, I'm sorry, but I can't get the damned bowl," he sighed, giving her a rueful look.

"Oh . . .err . . ." she hoped that he assumed her flushed face came from her own efforts . . .then she brushed the hair from his eyes and said, "Don't feel too bad, Rumple. It's not your fault you're tiny. I'll just—"

But Rumple was recalling something he'd seen on TV the other day. "Eureka!" he cried, imitating Archimedes. "I've got it!"

"What do you mean?"

"I can get the bowl, dearie. Or rather—_we_ can," he amended.

"How? Neither of us can reach it."

"Not alone. But together . . ." he giggled delightedly. "All I have to do is—_this!_"

Then he put his hands on his wife's waist and lifted her up, positioning her so she could reach the bowl.

"Ooh . . .Rumple . . .I've almost got it!" she squeaked. "Lift me a little more!"

"As you wish!" he said, his voice suddenly deepening to a skin stroking velvet as he found that raising his wife a little bit higher put her skirt clad derriere right in his line of sight . . .and oh! What a sight it was!

He nearly died from the sheer bliss of staring at her shapely-clad bottom in her hearts and flowers underwear . . .and imagining removing them later on and doing some quite uninhibited things on their silk sheets . . .

His eyes glazed over dreamily . . .like a dog's with a favorite bone . . .or a man given a glimpse of his heart's desire.

"Oooohh . . ."

"Rumple? Am I too heavy?" Belle called in concern. "Maybe you'd better put me down."

"No . . .no . . .m'fine . . ."

"Just a bit more . . .got it!" she yelled in triumph as her hand closed over the sugar bowl.

She looked around. "Oh! The view from up here is . . .amazing!"

Little did she know the view Rumple had was also amazing . . .for an entirely different reason.

"Rumple? Rumple, you can put me down now."

"Do I have to?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Err . . .as you wish . . ."

He wished he had the strength of Goliath—so he could admire the view of her hot little backside until he grew tired.

But he could feel his arms trembling and he reluctantly lowered her to the ground.

She turned to him, beaming. "We did it! Us short people need to stick together!"

"Oh we definitely do!" he smirked, his eyes twinkling naughtily. "Anytime you need a boost . . .call me!"

Then he kissed her leisurely.

"I'm going to put this on the table," she said. "You're just in time for tea, darling!"

He watched her as she walked back over to the table, starry-eyed as a teenager just realizing that girls were shapely creatures of mystery, layered and waiting to be uncovered.

As she leaned over the table to put the sugar bowl down, he sneakily crept up behind her and pinched her bottom.

"Rumplestiltskin!"

"A pinch to grow an inch!" he cackled with wicked merriment.

"You . . . you . . .wicked imp!" she scolded, waving her finger playfully under his nose.

"Not wicked, dearie . . .incorrigible!"

Then he giggled his signature giggle and wrapped his arms about her and kissed her again. "And you, my sweet Belle, are . . .irresistible!"

She felt a familiar slow heat travel up through her, and she could swear her temperature rose at the merest brush of his fingers against her skin.

"Rumple . . ."

"Yes, dearie?"

"I'd love to . . .begin our night early but . . .I'm starving!" she moaned, her pregnancy cravings coming on full force.

"Me too!" he sighed, as his stomach growled loudly.

She giggled. "And the tea's getting cold."

"Ahh . . .we can't have that, can we? Miss Post would rise from her grave and beat us with her parasol!" he grinned, and then held out her chair for her. "Your chair, milady."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she dipped a curtsey, allowing him a quick glimpse of her cleavage since her sweetheart neckline was a little too low.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said suavely, and sashayed over to his seat, unaware she was ogling him quite blatantly.

He poured some tea into his chipped cup and added the amount of milk and sugar he liked, then they toasted each other with their cups.

"Here's to us! And a Happy Valentine's Day!"

"This tea is delicious. What is it?" he asked as he sipped.

"It's a special Valentine's Day tea-made with rooibus tea, chocolate nibs, strawberry leaves, cinnamon and rose petals. Isn't it amazing?"

"Oh yes." He finished it then said, "And how about this one?"

"It's an Almond Cinnamon biscotti," she responded. "Totally decadent."

Both were the perfect compliment to the food.

As they sipped their tea and ate the cakes and sandwiches, Rumple said, "I . . . .decided to get you something a bit . . .non-traditional this year, sweetheart."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Something that's layered."

"Layered?"

He nodded, looking like a little boy with a juicy secret. "And you need to unwrap it . . .slowly and carefully."

"Where is this . . .mystery gift?"

"I need to get it." He finished his tea. "Wait right here. I'm going to bring it in the living room."

"Okay," she agreed, alive now with curiosity.

He rose and walked into his study to fetch one object, and then dragged a large box wrapped in shiny red paper with a golden ribbon about it into the living room. He hoped she enjoyed unwrapping her gift.

Belle waited impatiently in the kitchen, after clearing away the tea things. She was intensely curious about what thing her husband had gotten her now . . .or made her, for she knew how fond he was of making special things for family members. Her fingers stroked the wool sweater, which he had knitted for her.

"Belle!" she heard him call. "You can come in and unwrap your gift."

She hurried into the room to see a very large box standing in the center of the floor, wrapped in lovely sparkly red paper with a striking golden ribbon and bow about it. On the gift was a tag that read—**Fragile! Handle With Care!**

She glanced around for her husband. "Rumple? Where are you?"

"Go ahead and open the present, dearie!" he called. "I'll be right there!"

So Belle began to unwrap the huge box, which was almost taller than she was!

She carefully removed the paper, mindful of the tag's instructions.

Underneath the ruby red paper was a large wooden crate—almost like the kind you shipped livestock in. There was a knob at the top of the crate and it appeared to open towards her.

As she set her hands on the crate, the stereo began to play "You Sexy Thing."

Belle grinned, thinking Rumple had come into the room and used the remote.

She had always liked this song, because it reminded her of her hot and sexy husband.

"Rumple?" she called again, and glanced about.

"Just unwrap what's inside. Don't wait for me!"

"Okay . . ."

How odd, she thought.

Then she pulled the handle of the crate door, unable to bear the suspense.

Inside was an oddly wrapped package in gold paper with a red bow on it.

She began untying the bow, and then the paper fell away . . .

To reveal her husband in one of his favorite charcoal gray Armani suits, with a pink shirt on and a purple and pink striped tie!

She gasped.

"Hello, dearie!" he greeted. "I figured I'd be unconventional this holiday . . . and give you a gift you can unwrap . . .layer by layer . . .**me!**"

He bowed to her, twirling his cane, and shimmying his hips.

"You want me to . . .unwrap you?" she squeaked.

"Once you said you enjoyed unbuttoning the Dark One," he grinned lasciviously. "So now you can unwrap your Rumplestiltskin-in-a-box."

She gave him a sassy smile. "A mystery to be uncovered!"

Then she began to undo the buttons on his jacket, slowly, and slip it down over his shoulders.

"I love . . .your pink shirt!"

"Nobody wears pink like me, dearie!" he murmured, licking his lips.

"Absolutely not! Most men are . . . afraid to," she giggled, and began to undo his tie.

As she pulled it off, he wriggled seductively, and she moaned and swatted him on the behind with his tie.

"Tease!"

"You love it!"

As she unbuttoned his shirt, he rotated his hips slightly, moving against her, and she groaned and kissed him uninhibitedly . . . and then her hands moved to his pants.

With a flick, she'd undone his button . . .and he shimmied and the pants fell down . . .

To reveal yet another layer of clothing . . .this time of loose wool leggings and a red lace-up tunic, reminiscent of the clothing worn by his spinner self back in the Enchanted Forest.

"You Sexy Thing" ended and now "Tie A Yellow Ribbon" began.

Belle set her hands upon the drawstring of his tunic. "More like _untie_ a yellow ribbon," she purred throatily.

She began to pull the laces through the holes, her cerulean eyes darkening with desire.

Rumple swayed to the music, singing, " . . .tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree . . .if you still want me . . ."

"I will _always_ want you," she whispered, and kissed her way down his neck.

"How very remarkable!" he tittered, and he lifted his arms up so she could pull the tunic over him, while swaying like a snake under a flute's magical spell.

Belle threw the tunic across the room. It landed on the floor beside the Armani suit and tie.

Beneath that was yet another shirt—a white button-down collared one.

Her hands sought the drawstring on his leggings, and she eased them down to reveal . . .

A pair of relaxed fit jeans in a deep blue color.

Rumple smirked at her—that impish sexy grin she loved so well.

"Do you like what you see, dearie?"

"Very much, Mr. Gold!"

She ran her hands down his shirt, feeling herself start to tingle all over with repressed desire.

Who would have thought peeling off layer after layer of clothing from her husband was as erotic as any Chippendale strip tease?

Van Halen's "Dreams" came on next, and suddenly her husband was nibbling her neck, his slender hands gliding in butterfly touches across her collarbone.

Belle threw her head back in ecstasy, as Rumple found the erogenous zone behind her left ear and teasingly pressed his lips to it.

" . . .gods . . .oh gods . . ."

"Shall I stop?"

" . . ._don't_ stop!" she whimpered.

He lifted his head, his own eyes glowing with barely leashed passion, and half-growled, "I love a good mystery, don't you?"

"As long . . . as it . . . involves . . . you in your white shirt . . ."

Her fingers began hastily undoing his buttons.

The button got stuck halfway down.

"Bloody hells!" she swore, then she tore the shirt off him.

Buttons popped and scattered across the floor.

Her hands moved to his jeans, unbuttoning his fly and peeling them away . . .

To reveal one of her favorite layers.

"Oohh . . .your leather pants!" she crooned. "And silk gold shirt!" This was the very outfit she'd first met him in, and made the deal of a lifetime to go with him forever.

In the background, "Shake Your Booty" came on, and her husband spun about and obligingly shook his very sexy backside in those eye catching, heart stopping leather breeches at her.

Belle felt her heart stutter to a halt and her mouth go dry with longing.

_I have died and gone to heaven._

Rumple twitched his hips and murmured, "Unwrap me, beloved."

Unable to resist, Belle reached out and boldly pinched his leather-clad backside. "Cheeky imp!"

Rumple exploded into giggles.

Then he glanced over his shoulder at her, his cognac-colored eyes beckoning in an unmistakable come-hither look, fluttering his absurdly long—for a man—lashes at her, strands of his floofy hair falling irresistibly into his eyes.

Belle feared she would self-combust right then and there.

Rumple rolled his shoulder forward, smirking, and put his hand on his hip, cocking it in an insouciant pose, like Errol Flynn in his swashbuckler flicks.

He didn't speak, he didn't need to.

He used his body in place of his facile tongue, making it tease and flaunt and beckon, promising delights and sensations beyond all imagination. The silk rippled across his chest like a second skin, making him gleam almost the way he had when he was his cursed self.

His eyes at half-mast, smoky orbs languid with desire, he jerked his chin at her as he spun about, facing her.

His mouth curled in a lazy insolent smile.

"You Sexy Thing" began to play again.

_I believe in miracles . . ._ Belle thought as she set her hands upon his shoulders and slipped his shirt down them.

The silk puddled upon the floor around his feet, which, she now noted, were clad only in black dress socks.

He purred deep in his throat as she unwrapped the Dark One, peeling the leather pants down him, until she had reached the final layer—his gold Speedo.

"Where you from—you sexy thing?" she sang to him.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" he sang back at her.

"The sexiest thing under this sun or any other, dearie!" Then she wound her arms about him and kissed him ardently. "This was . . . the most incredible gift I've ever unwrapped!"

"And there's more," he said, kissing her back.

"I think . . .mmm . . .I know what comes next," she said huskily.

"Oh no, you don't, Mrs. Gold," he teased. The he wriggled his ring finger on his right hand, and her sleek cashmere sweater and cocoa skirt was transformed into a gorgeous rum pink gown with a pleated strapless bodice and a skirt that flowed in sheer silky waves to the ground. A matching silky wrap with appliqués roses was about her shoulders, the ends trailing onto the floor.

"Oh, Rumple! This gown is _gorgeous!"_ She could see herself in the full length mirror across from the living room.

"And the color suits you perfectly," he said appreciatively, for it brought out the rose tones in her skin and the highlights in her hair and caused her sapphire eyes to become even bluer.

"What's next?" she queried playfully.

"That's for me to know . . .and you to find out," he grinned mischievously at her, and picked up the trailing end of her scarf.

Then he led her into the spa room, saying, "After all that unwrapping frenzy I thought you might like to relax . . .with a good cup of tea."

He gestured and Belle's eyes went wide.

For their hot tub had also been transformed . . .into a gigantic life sized replica of their chipped cup and the frothing waters were dark with the chocolate and cherry scented bath oil he'd poured into it, making it appear as if tea were inside.

"Rumplestiltskin . . .I love you!"

"And I love you too," he answered. Then he gave the wrap a tug and Belle was spun around gently, and when she stopped revolving, her rum pink fantasy gown was transformed into a rum pink bikini. "There! I'm far too impatient to unwrap you," he admitted, chuckling.

Then he held out his arm to her, like the old-world gentleman he was.

"My lady, your bath awaits."

She set her hand on his. "Lead me to my fate, you sexy beast!"

"With pleasure, _mo chroi_."

He escorted her up the stairs, stepping carefully into the steaming water which was giving off a heavenly scent.

As soon as they were ensconced in the tub, which was frothing and bubbling, like the three witches' cauldron in Macbeth, Rumple wriggled his iolite ring again and two glasses of sparkling cranberry ginger ale floated their way to them upon the wings of magic.

"For you, Mrs. Gold. Happy Valentine's Day." He toasted her with his glass.

She clinked it and drank. "Rumple, how are you doing all this without exhausting yourself?"

"Fortunately, I know a little magic," he replied. "It's a talent that I always have possessed."

"Rumple!"

"Sorry, I just had to say that," he smirked. "I love that line. As for how," he showed her his ring. "You don't have to cast a spell from a scroll . . .you can store it in a ring. So that is what I did. Your last mystery uncovered."

"Oh I doubt that. My husband will always be a mystery for me to uncover . . ."

She set her glass on the lip of the tub, in its holder, and swam over to him. "I believe, Mr. Gold, I have one last layer to unwrap."

"Indeed, dearie," he crooned, and sucked in a breath as he felt her fingers tugging his last bit of clothing away.

Then he put his hands upon her top and drew it off, his fingers tracing her breasts and belly with infinite gentleness. He cupped the rounded bump where their children rested, murmuring, "The best deal of my life was the one I made with you."

"Mine as well," she agreed, pressing up against him, loving how he felt against her. She tilted her head back and gazed rapturously into his eyes. "Take me to bed, Mr. Gold, or lose me forever."

"Deal struck!"

Then he pulled her on top of him, and together they danced a tale as old as time, whose steps they knew by heart, to a rhythm as ancient as the sea from which all life has sprung, passion's spiral unending, uncovering anew love's greatest mystery—a true and loving heart.

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to all my dearies! Hope you unwrap a sexy thing of your own! **

**Some of the scenes in here were inspired by Rumbelle artwork from deviantart, so I thank the artists for their inspiration! And also a fellow dearie for her Rumple-In-A-Box edit!**


End file.
